


Thousand Years

by Ulan



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Love at First Sight, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 00:10:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6172237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulan/pseuds/Ulan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was love at first sight, certainly. Glorfindel only wondered that it took him this long to find himself in that moment, past three ages in a land so changed, looking up at a stranger standing at a balcony.</p><p>This story is now also in <a href="https://www.fanfiktion.de/s/5a2cff790004e2f428c63860/1/Tausend-Jahre">German</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thousand Years

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to the song that inspired this piece here: https://youtu.be/xojvK8rBrU0. I was particularly taken by these lines:
> 
> _I remember that day  
>  When I saw you for the first time  
> As you walked in front of me.  
> Since then until today, I knew,  
> My soul won't peacefully rest  
> Until I find a way to your heart._
> 
> This story is now in [German](https://www.fanfiktion.de/s/5a2cff790004e2f428c63860/1/Tausend-Jahre)! Thank you to the wonderful Ramona ([Rainbow Demon](https://www.fanfiktion.de/u/Rainbowdemon)) for doing the brilliant translation work. ♥

Glorfindel wanted for few things in life. One could say that he was fortunate to have been born to a good family, respected wherever he went, even now in his new life in Middle-Earth, where he was oddly well-known. As a person, he was also one who was easily content; he never felt that passion and great unrest that made people desire enough the things for which others could endure great hardship, or to wage wars, or to risk what peace one knew.

This extended to all things, even love, for which he had heard many Elves extol such praises with much excitement and joy. He never knew it nor fully understood it, for he had never known what it was like to look at someone and feel that skip in his heartbeat that many claimed they felt, that tightening of chest, the narrowing of one's vision, said to put great clarity on that one singularly precious face. 

Thousands of years he had lived - and died and lived again - and this had always held true for him. That was until today, here in the Third Age, in Imladris of all places. 

All he could remember before that moment was that he was speaking to Lindir, an Elf who introduced himself as Elrond's assistant. They were walking along the pathways that led through Elrond's gardens and Lindir was leading the tour, telling Glorfind some of Imladris' history. It was during this time, when Glorfindel looked back at the main house, that he saw him, standing there on one of the balconies, looking at something in the distance.

The first thing that Glorfindel noticed was that the other had with him the light of Aman, a faint glow that lit his pale skin. This made Glorfindel stop and stare; thus far he had encountered few as old as he, for it seemed that Middle-Earth was filled now with so many of the younger ones, born to the Sun and Moon that were but mirrors of the old Trees. But even without this, Glorfindel saw that the other Elf was striking, fair and tall and with black hair long and loose, falling even on one side like a curtain that concealed part of his face. Glorfindel felt his cheeks heat. The scene he was seeing seemed to him far too intimate, a private moment, but he could not deny that he found him beautiful, this mysterious Elf, who stood as one deep in thought, oblivious to the one below him, watching him in surprised admiration. 

"My lord?" 

Glorfindel turned to see Lindir looking at him worriedly, and he realized that the other must have been calling his attention for a while now. He smiled apologetically at him. "Forgive me, my friend. It is just that..."

Glorfindel's eyes strayed back to that balcony, but was disappointed to find it now empty. "Lindir," he said, catching his companion's attention. He pointed at the balcony. "Do you know whose rooms are those?"

Lindir ducked his head to peek through the leaves blocking his view. Brown eyes widened when he realized which room Glorfindel was pointing at. "Lord Erestor's rooms, you mean?" he asked. 

"Erestor," said Glorfindel, testing the name. A strange thrill, wholly unfamiliar, seemed to run through him. "Who is he?"

"He is Lord Elrond's chief counselor," said Lindir. "One of the oldest ones here, as a matter of fact. I believe if you trace it far enough, you could say he is a distant kin to Lord Elrond, although I do not believe that is the reason for his position. He was an adviser to the High King before coming here." Lindir looked curiously at Glorfindel. "Why do you ask, my lord?"

Glorfindel continued to look, conscious of the way his heart was suddenly beating a little too fast. He only shook his head at Lindir and bid him to continue the tour. Even as they resumed their walk, however, Glorfindel wondered at the pull he felt in his chest, and he endured it only for but a few steps before he was turning his head back to that empty balcony, hoping to see that face again. 

 

He could not stop thinking about the other Elf. Glorfindel wondered at this, for never had he experienced such a thing in his life. He kept an eye out for him, expecting to see him again eventually. But it turned out that he underestimated the size of the valley and its seemingly modest population, for ever did he find himself surrounded by Elves in a crowd. Despite this, never did he see the face he most wanted see.

It was not until a week later that he heard the Elf's name again. Glorfindel was standing in Elrond's office, after just handing his new lord a report of what he thought on the state of the realm's guards. 

"This is good, Glorfindel," said Elrond. "I have been hoping to come up with something similar, but we have been so busy. You do not mind if I share this with another, do you? I would like to know what Erestor thinks." 

Glorfindel looked up at that. "Ah," he began, caught off-guard. "No, of course not."

Elrond smiled and stood, gesturing for Glorfindel to follow. That was when Glorfindel noticed the door at the corner of Elrond's office, just hidden from view by the tall bookshelves. Elrond knocked on this door, waited a moment, then proceeded to turn the knob and open it, revealing a room not unlike Elrond's own. 

That was how Glorfindel saw him again - Erestor, the chief counselor, the mysterious Elf who enchanted him by doing nothing but stand at a balcony. Glorfindel's feet felt like lead, so heavy did they seem to him as he walked slowly behind Elrond, his eyes transfixed on the one sitting behind a desk on one side of the room. Fortunately, neither of the room's two other occupants noticed his state. 

"Glorfindel," called Elrond, bidding him to approach. "Please, I would like for you to meet a most trusted friend and brother-in-arms. This is Erestor, our chief counselor." 

Erestor stood as Glorfindel approached. Even that simple act made Glorfindel wonder, so gracefully did Erestor seem to move. He seemed so careful and controlled, and his eyes were sharp and calculating as he regarded Glorfindel. It was only for a moment, however, and his gaze softened as he raised a hand to his heart in the standard greeting. 

"Well met, Glorfindel," he said. His voice was deep and smooth, and it suffused Glorfindel in warmth. 

Glorfindel just barely remembered to bow graciously in return, his hand also on his rapidly beating heart. "Well met, Lord Erestor."

Erestor's lips quirked at that, his eyes - a fascinating golden brown in this light, with hints of green, noted Glorfindel - sparkling with a hint of amusement. "Please," he said. "Just Erestor. No titles, and no assumptions on seniority. We have yet to establish who is older, after all."

This made Elrond laugh. "That is right," said the Half-Elf, his gaze alternating between the two of them. "It has been a while since Erestor met a contemporary. This is good; I believe you will get along quite well here."

Glorfindel looked at Elrond, curious about what he meant by this. 

"I do apologize for this, Glorfindel," said his new lord, "but I am afraid we are a little short of rooms for offices these days. Constructions are still on-going and the new wings will not be ready yet until a few more years. In the meantime, should you need a place to work, please come here." 

Glorfindel realized that there was another desk in the room, across from Erestor's own, and it was only then that he noted that it did not seem as if the desk was recently used. It was clear save for an inkwell and quill, and a low stack of blank parchment on one side. 

"This room is connected to my office, which you have seen, and the office of the other counselors over there." Elrond pointed at another door near the corner of the wall behind what was to be Glorfindel's desk. "You can ask for their help should you need it. They are a bit crowded there though, so Erestor is your best choice in terms of with whom to share an office."

"I am a quiet workmate anyway," offered Erestor, still with that amused glint in his eyes. 

"Too quiet," said Elrond with mock disapproval. "It is why people find you intimidating. Glorfindel, please, I am counting on you to do something about this. Do talk to him from time to time."

 

Erestor was indeed a quiet workmate. For the most part, he kept to himself, and always had his head down either as he wrote or while perusing a scroll, a book, a piece of parchment, or whatever it was that was stacked on his desk. He always seemed busy, and save for when Elrond came in to ask him one thing or another, he hardly spoke. 

It was why, already almost two months in since he came to Imladris, Glorfindel knew about as much about his officemate as he did on his first day. His interest in the other, however, did not fade, and even just grew worse, it seemed, so that he caught himself finding excuses to spend the day behind the desk across from Erestor's. He was careful not to do it so often that it would be suspect, for it was still expected that he spent most of his time with the guards and out in the fields. 

Oh, but how could he help himself? Erestor was a marvel to watch, although Glorfindel never saw him again as he did that first time, in thin robes and with his dark hair loose and flowing freely. In daylight and when they were at work, Erestor was always in formal robes, his hair braided intricately and neatly pinned together at the back of his head, falling in a single braid to the small of his back. 

Yet even here there was much to see, at least so Glorfindel thought, for even in stillness he found he enjoyed watching Erestor. He watched the way Erestor held a quill and whatever else he worked with around the room. Occasionally, Glorfindel imagined how he would be like wielding a sword, and with eyes that sharp, he wondered how he was with a bow. After the first month, he surmised that Erestor would be quick with a knife, or a pair of twin daggers, and wondered how he must be in battle, for Elrond did mention that Erestor was a brother-in-arms. 

Such thoughts ran through his mind, but of course Glorfindel did all his observing covertly as much as he was able. Despite sharing space the way they did, they did not really talk much, save for the customary greetings and polite pleasantries. Glorfindel was beginning to despair, for long did he wish to approach Erestor, but he found he knew not what to say to him without revealing himself. Although truth be told, revealing himself was becoming more and more of an option as days passed and his distraction grew. 

The longing, too, was becoming unbearable. 

 

It was midsummer, and Imladris was alive with its colors and anticipation of merriment. The great hall, extending to the Hall of Fire and out the gardens, was decorated with ribbons and flowers in bloom, and that night there was to be a get-together, a celebration of sorts, with dance and music and songs. 

Glorfindel asked Erestor if he attended such things, to which the other said he did, though he did not usually linger. Standing alone now in the middle of the crowd, Glorfindel regretted not asking Erestor if they could go together. Midsummer celebrations were always loud, boisterous things, hardly something one would wish to attend alone, if only so one had company in lamenting the inevitable shoves or bumps on the shoulder delivered by inebriated merrymakers, usually in pairs, running hand in hand. 

Glorfindel sighed as another such pair made their apologies to him and ran away giggling. Oh, to be so young; he could not remember the last time he had ever been so carefree. 

His eyes scanned the crowd again. Finally, on the third round of his search, he saw Erestor standing off to one side, a goblet in one hand, watching the revelers. Glorfindel stood for a moment just to admire him. The chief counselor was wearing more casual robes this time, a single layered robe of gold and dark green. He styled his hair a little differently; although they were all still braided together, the ties were a little more loose around the front, so that somehow his face was delicately framed, his ears hidden from view. It suited him well, softened his usual look, and Glorfindel could not help but sigh just looking at him. Easily, he imagined him in private just like this, comfortable and softly lit by firelight. 

His daydreaming was abruptly interrupted, however, when he saw someone approach Erestor and take his hand. Glorfindel recognized the intruder as one of the younger Elves who worked in the library. In that moment, he knew the first taste of heartbreak as he watched the young Elf place a white flower on Erestor's hair, just behind his ear, a peaceful familiarity between the two of them evident in the way Erestor looked at him and let him touch him. The young one took a long time in adjusting the flower so that Erestor seemed to lose his patience; he swatted at the other and pushed him away, though not without a smile on his face. He plucked the irksome flower and just held it in his hand. The young Elf then leaned over and whispered something in Erestor's ear, close and intimate, which made the counselor's smile grow. Whatever the other said, it earned him a fond look from Erestor and a soft kiss on his forehead. 

That was when Glorfindel decided that he had seen enough. He turned and walked, away from the music and the crowd, away from Erestor and his young lover. He found he did not have the heart for merriment that night, or for much of anything anymore. 

He found a quiet spot deep in the gardens, almost at the edge of the wood where a small stream flowed. He sat at the foot of a young willow and leaned his head back, closing his eyes, willing his mind to silence amidst its raging thoughts. His chest felt tight and it was hard to breathe.

Of course Erestor was unavailable. How could he not be? Glorfindel desired him at first sight, so surely he had other admirers as well, and could have his pick from among them. Nevermind that Glorfindel was most likely the oldest among said admirers, and nevermind that this was the first time such a thing has ever happened to him. He supposed, no matter how old, first loves were always bittersweet, like many claimed. Love was never guaranteed to be returned, after all, and not even Elves of Aman were immune to such tragedies. 

He took a deep, shaky breath. So lost in thought was he that he almost missed the approaching footsteps from behind him, faint beneath the sounds of the flowing stream. His eyes opened so he could turn back to see who it was, and then widened as he recognized him. 

"I thought that was you," said Erestor as he drew near. Glorfindel could only watch, silent and dumbfounded, as Erestor sat beside him. The dark-haired Elf looked around them, and even up at the heavens dusted with stars. He smiled and said, "I was about to ask why you left, but now perhaps believe that you have the right of it. It is much better here."

"What are you doing here?" Glorfindel asked once he found his voice. 

Erestor regarded him with a look that was suddenly guarded, and his voice lost what warmth it earlier had. "Am I unwelcome?" he asked.

That was when Glorfindel realized that his question might have come off as harsh or rude. He shook his head. "Nay, never unwelcome," he said, honest without meaning to. "You startled me, 'tis all. I was not expecting you here."

"I could leave."

Glorfindel sighed. "You could, if you wish. What I meant is that I do not understand why you are here when you clearly have someone with you for the feast."

Erestor looked confused by this. "Whom do you mean?"

This time, Glorfindel returned his look of confusion, although a little bit of his own frustration might have seeped through as well. He was doing his best to forget the image of Erestor with another, to forget how much he wanted Erestor though he could not have him. "The one you were with earlier - the blond librarian."

A series of emotions seemed to flicker and war among themselves in Erestor's eyes; for a moment, he looked confused still, then seemed to be amused, exasperated, and, one which he finally settled with, appalled. "Silindë?" he asked, with what seemed like disbelief.

Glorfindel sighed. "I know not his name, but I... I saw you kiss him." His voice trailed off near the end. How cruel for Erestor to make him say it. Did he not know how much saying so took from Glorfindel?

He could feel Erestor watching him. "Why does that matter to you?" 

At that, Glorfindel grew quiet. Asked this way, he could not answer Erestor without letting him know how deeply ran Glorfindel's regard. And that, Glorfindel learned tonight, was no longer possible, not with an Elf bound to another. 

Erestor shook his head at Glorfindel's silence, sighing in turn. "Silindë is kin, Glorfindel, a younger cousin. Quite an affectionate child. He always makes me join in such things." He smiled then, shook his head again. "Even if he was not kin, he is much too young, barely past his second century. I am not inclined for such things; we would be too different."

Glorfindel slowly turned to Erestor as what he was hearing began to sink in. Erestor seemed to be waiting for him to do so, as there was a smile waiting for Glorfindel when he met the other's eyes again. 

"Does that please you?" asked the counselor when their eyes met. 

Glorfindel blushed and looked away, realizing that he must not have been as careful as he thought he was. Erestor knew, came here knowing... but he did come, and Glorfindel wondered at this. A faint light of hope reborn stirred within him. 

He heard the sound of shifting leaves and grass before Erestor came into his field of view, a hand slipping in his, pulling it from his lap to Erestor's welcoming warmth. "Glorfindel," he said in that deep voice of his, so pleasant and sweet to Glorfindel's ears. "I feel your eyes on me when you think I am not looking." 

Glorfindel's eyes closed, caught in that gaze and by the hand that held his so tightly. The warmth he felt was becoming unbearable. He squeezed the hand holding his, and he could no longer keep himself from confessing, "Erestor, you had me from the moment I saw you."

Erestor sighed at this, as if in relief. Then, he smiled. "When Elrond introduced us?"

Glorfindel shook his head. "From the moment I came here and I saw you standing at your balcony, I was lost. You were deep in thought then, staring off into the distance. You did not see me." 

Oddly, despite his seeming encouragement earlier, the smile slipped from Erestor's face as he heard this. A look of surprise replaced that smile and his voice trembled slightly when he spoke. "When was this?"

"A few months ago, near the start of spring," said Glorfindel, remembering that day, vivid still in his memory. "I came from passing the Havens from Lindon, just to get Círdan's blessing before coming to reside here. I was with Lindir, in the afternoon near sunset, and we passed through the gardens beneath your balcony and I saw you." He looked at Erestor who had pulled his hand from Glorfindel's grip, a wide-eyed look on his face as he listened. "What is wrong?" asked Glorfindel. "Did I say something that upset you?"

"Not upset. Surprised, perhaps. I was just wondering if the Valar truly answer prayers the way some say they do."

Glorfindel watched him. "You were praying at the time?" 

Erestor sighed, his eyes going distant. He looked somewhere past Glorfindel's shoulder, his profile not unlike that first day. "I was thinking..." he began, albeit slowly. "I was thinking about how long it has been, yet still I walk alone. Such thoughts have begun to plague me in times of peace, when people wed, have children. One would think I should be used to it, but I am not. It is a silly thing, really, for one as old as I. I asked the Valar if my way was truly such - a narrow path marked by footprints that were mine alone." 

"'Tis not silly," said Glorfindel. "Loneliness comes to us all, even for us who have seen the centuries pass. If you judge such feelings to be silly, then we are both silly, you and I." This time, it was he who reached out to take Erestor's hand, cradling it in both of his. "Erestor, that day when I saw you, all my years came back to me. I wondered at how so much time had passed and it was only now that I found you."

Erestor looked at him curiously. "Found me?"

Glorfindel smiled, thinking that Erestor looked suddenly young. He could not help but touch his face, hand on his cheek, thumb brushing against soft skin, eyes fond and admiring. "Aye. I felt I have been looking and waiting for you for a very long time." 

Their first kiss was careful and sweet, just a light touch of lips, experimental it even seemed, for both were out of practice. A sigh escaped Glorfindel all the same, mirrored by Erestor a moment later. They were still for a while, just exchanging kisses, feather-light and tentative, but Glorfindel heard the rush of blood in his ears, the drumming in his heart. He felt faint and out of breath, but it was difficult to stop. He wished they never would.

When they parted, Glorfindel could not tell how much time had passed. All he saw was Erestor's smile, the light in his eyes, the indescribable perfection that was him at that moment, old and young and everything Glorfindel never knew he wanted.

"You took your time," whispered Erestor in mock-complaint, seductive and sibilant and tickling Glorfindel's lips, tempting him. "I was beginning to worry."

Glorfindel laughed, giddy and nervous and absolutely happy in a way he cannot remember ever feeling before. "Let me make it up to you," he said, took those lips again, and set out, indeed, to make up for lost time.

**Author's Note:**

> I discovered this wonderful artist because I was looking for a voice for Erestor when he sits with a harp and sings. It is for another story, for a scene for which I couldn't find the words until I have the right voice in my head. I found this guy and his rendition of Scarborough Fair, which to me was absolute perfection and exactly what I was looking for, and the rest is history. 
> 
> I'm actually torn about giving that link instead of the one I gave above, since that is what really started it all. Plus you really have to watch him play the harp to appreciate him fully. Ngh, you know what, here: https://youtu.be/EYekx7kRgyg. Be sure to watch them both! :)


End file.
